Photos: author
After coming back from two years in Togo, Linda Golden finds readjusting to life in the U.S a little weirder than she expected.
Early in our Peace Corps training, the training coordinator scheduled a session on the readjustment we’d face in two years, when we returned to the States.
My fellow trainees and I had been in-country maybe four weeks, long enough to suffer gastrointestinal disasters, grow weary of bucket baths and eat enough pâte (a white dough-like carb base usually made from corn meal and eaten with sauce) to inspire dreams of burritos and hamburgers. As we prepared to talk about readjustment, I overheard two other volunteers-in-training scoff at the idea.
“Like I’m really going to need to readjust to hot showers and A/C.”
I know myself. After spending five months studying abroad in Switzerland, I was overwhelmed by the warehouse-size of the first American supermarket I visited. I knew I would have some readjusting to do coming back from Togo, but I imagined it would be more obvious – freezing in the winter, freaking out about new technological developments.
There was some of that. I got so cold this winter, I started wishing for the heat rash that tormented me in Togo’s hot season. But the changes I notice most are weird little habits and bizarre reactions to minor occurrences – things I would never have thought or done had I not lived in Togo.
That’s just my hair/a rock/a leaf
My village house sheltered me and a range of wildlife. In the rainy season, evening reading and writing sessions devolved into a standoff between willpower and the flying, buzzing, hopping insects drawn to my oil lamp.
A trip to the latrine in the night meant shining the flashlight ahead to avoid stepping on toads – or having toads hop on me (I have nothing against toads, except when they jump on or in front of me in the dark).
Spiders, mice or salamanders – something was forever scurrying out of the way when I opened the latrine door for a midnight visit. Now, every hair brushing my arm is a winged beetle aiming to tangle itself in my mane.
Every rock or large leaf on the sidewalk at dusk is a toad waiting to surprise me by moving into my path at the last minute. Last week, while making a sandwich, my heart stopped when I saw a two-inch cockroach scamper onto the bag of lettuce. It was part of the blue packaging on the cheese I’d just opened.
That trash just goes away
In Togo, I burned my trash and was careful about what I threw away. I held on to batteries because I didn’t know what to do with them, but was sure tossing them in fire was not the answer. I composted my food waste. I saved matches and used the unburned ends to light my oil lamp from my reading candle. A few months ago, I nearly reprimanded my boyfriend after he put an aerosol can in the trash.
“What is he thinking? That will explode!” As soon as I thought it, I remembered – we’re not going to burn the contents of the garbage can. It will just disappear with the garbage truck. Goodbye, empty Raid bottle.
I still leave half-burned matches lying on the kitchen counters.
But there are still bugs – This winter, I made tea and spilled a little sugar on the floor. My immediate reaction was, “Clean it up before the ants get it.”
We live in a third floor apartment. It was February. The ants were not coming upstairs from under the two feet of snow to carry off the sugar. I couldn’t see the sugar – so I left it.
Three months later, when the ants arrived and annexed the raisins I’d purchased the day before, my boyfriend refused to relax until all the ants were gone. Meanwhile, I was happy to eat my raisin-less cereal and let the ants come and go, figuring we could just deal with them later. They’d won already, and I was late to work.
After all, they’re not lethal (for the most part) – I was on some kind of anti-malarial for the full two years in Togo. I slept under a bed net and lathered myself in insect repellent when I couldn’t.
Two weeks ago, I saw a mosquito in the bathroom. I instantly thought, “malaria,” then remembered this is not a problem, and no, it was probably not laying mosquito eggs in the toilet. Still, that single mosquito pulled up the memory of my latrine in rainy season, when mosquitoes and drain flies covered the walls of my open-air bathroom.
Weird water feelings
I have a strange, new relationship with water, the source of many, variegated troubles (giardia, amoebas, diarrhea, guinea worm, schistosomiasis, dysentery, cholera, dehydration), most of which involve lots of time hanging out near a toilet.
To avoid these, I filtered and bleached my water, washed my veggies in bleached water and occasionally, boiled water I used for bucket baths. I carried a Nalgene with me everywhere, drinking nearly a gallon of water a day in the hopes of staying hydrated.
I still got dehydrated, once to the point of fainting on my porch, but I avoided some of the nastier, common water-borne complications like giardia and amoebas.
But now, I see photos of a high school me, rinsing my legs in a pond-sized puddle after a particularly muddy cross-country meet and think, “Great way to get schisto!”
I visit family in Richmond, Virginia and wonder if the tap water is safe to drink. If I don’t have a water bottle with me, I’m convinced I’ll dehydrate. I think I can solve all my medical complaints with water, Gatorade and ibuprofen.
Actually, I think I can solve them with Oral Rehydration Salts (ORS), a salty powder added to water that’s basically a cheaper (if you buy it abroad), disgusting version of Gatorade. I believe in the power of ORS, and despite Gatorade’s accessibility and flavor, I wish I brought ORS home.
I miss street and finger food – Every week, I walk through the grocery store thinking, “I need to buy some snacks,” but I never want to pay for granola bars or Cheez-Its. Sometimes I make my own trail mix, but not only am I cheap, I’m lazy.
I just want to walk out of my apartment and buy a four-cent bag of peanuts on the way to work. Or a hard-boiled egg with a plastic-wrapped thimble-full of powdered hot pepper to season it. Or black-eyed peas sold in a black plastic bag. And then I want to eat my snack with my bare hands. Not always, just some days. Fortunately, there’s an Ethiopian restaurant in town where that’s ok.
These habits and instincts are infrequent (except thinking there are bugs on or near me. That happens regularly). At worst, people will think I’m strange for the jumpiness or just dirty for not picking up my sugar and match sticks.
And while I may be weirder than I was in 2007, I feel stronger – kind of invincible. I biked 400 miles (rough estimate) in a tropical country – I can bike around the streets of Louisville, Kentucky.
In 27 months, I was sick more than I had been in 10 years. Just pass the ibuprofen (and the occasional antibiotics). I eliminated an infestation of baby spiders (at night, by the light of an oil lamp and flashlight, mind you) and killed a scorpion with a running shoe. When I meet my next roach – or toad on the way to the bathroom, unlikely as that is – I’ll know how to take care of it.
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29 Comments... join the discussion!
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After my 2 years in the Namibian desert, I was super uptight about water and paper! I have to resist the urge to fill bottles with water in case of a shortage. Not a drop goes wasted! Also, not a slip of paper gets thrown away before used for dual or even triple purpose.
good luck with your transition time!
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Mary… I forgot about the TP thing. Let’s not go into that, but I can say I’ve gotten better.
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Heh, nice rundown. This reminded me a lot of Troost’s summary of his adjustment to life in the states after living on an atoll.
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I could totally relate with this Linda. I actually brought home a big box of Pakistani and Indian spices, packages biryani and chicken tikka mixes and joshanda tea (which the locals swear by when you have a cold). One thing I wish I brought with me is ORS, even if they are one of the nastiest tasting things I’ve ever drank.
I always have a water bottle with me and feel very strange if I have to fill it from the sink or a public bubbler…as soon as I get home I dump out the water and drink the distilled stuff we buy in the store. My husband and I have a lot of habits that his parents think are completely nuts!
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ORS taste grows on you…
I’ve never heard a water fountain called a “bubbler.”Also, I have zero problem with drinking fountain/tap/bubbler water in the States. I just forget that it’s ok to drink. I’m drinking some now. Delicious, and parasite free, I hope.
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Ick. That ORS. I had some for the first time after learning (the hard way) to be careful what I eat during the summers here in China. I was expecting it to taste like grape Gatorade or airborne. How wrong I was! I had never even heard of ORS before living here, too.
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Great article. After every 6 months living abroad I have to admit I get completely overwhelmed when I try to do everyday errands. Groceries at the big box stores leaves me longing for the “get it while they have it” and “be sure to check the expiry date mentality”. I admit I stood helpless in the breakfast aisle confused at all my cereal choices and left empty handed in a recent grocery store excursion back in Canada.
Coming back to North America certainly is an adjustment and a huge eye opener to our wasteful and sometimes un-appreciative mentality.↵ -
Wendy – I totally thought I was going to go into shock in front of the yogurt aisle. But no, pretty much hopped right back in, although I did have moments of, “There’s so much! So, so much!”
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Wow! I enjoyed reading your article. I’m having trouble adjusting to American excess, and all I did was spend two weeks in Spain. I really admire you!
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@Jared – Thanks! I guess blatant ignorance can be a good opportunity to do gentle education, if your audience is open to it. Sometimes.
@Turner – Googling Troost and adding to reading list now. I love reading about others’ readjustment. Think “I’m a Stranger Here Myself” by Bill Bryson.
@Suzanne – aw, shucks, thanks.
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Awesome article!! The one thing that gets me *every* time I come back from traveling is the fact that toilet paper goes in the toilet- I spend weeks after I return home having to stop myself from throwing the used TP into the trashcan!
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Oh yes: “Hm, where do I put this, no trash can… oooh riiiight.”
Can you imagine if someone saw your poo papers in their trash? You would never be invited back for tasty snacks.↵ -
Nice piece. Put a smile on my face.
Ever thought about the opposite? I mean, someone from Togo going back there after a couple of years studying (or whatever) where you live!
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After spending nearly two years in New Zealand, which is hardly a Have Not Country, Im still shocked at the selection and availability of items here in Toronto. Going across the border to Buffalo blows my mind.
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Great article Linda!
I still have the Thai habit of covering my mouth when I’m on a cellphone in public (so the whole world doesn’t have to hear me talk). People back in North America tend to assume I’m telling some juicy secret, when I’m just trying to save them from the noise of a one-sided conversation.
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Linda, thanks for sharing all of that. I have not spent two years in Togo, but I have had much shorter stints in African countries, notably 3 1/2 months in your neighbor, Ghana. And even now, almost 7 years after I left, and after visiting other African countries under very different circumstances, I still feel weird when I use my left hand to wave at someone or exchange money. I still crave freshly fried plantain chips and yes groundnuts! I loved the street food. I even still think in Twi on occasion. I can only imagine what it feels like after two whole years. Good luck with everything. I hope that you continue to travel and that you return to Togo down the road.
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Pam,
It took me several months to hand change to someone with my left hand without feeling self-conscious. And yes, Ghanaian street food is wonderful! Many more fried plantain chips available in Accra than in Lome.
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I loved your article, Linda! On my trip to India after leaving Togo, my friend got really sick on a 12 hour train ride. When we finally got into town, I immediately seeked out a pharmacy, so I could buy ORS. She refused to drink it after one sip (she said it made her vomit) and I couldn’t bare to throw the packets away, so I kept them all and brought them back home. I use a little in my parasite-free tap water after a long run or the next morining after a big booze bender. Tee hee. Hey, when do you want to meet in Cocke County?
love
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One thing I find myself doing after ten months in southern Spain is looking at the clock from anywhere between 230-5 and thinking, “Stores are closed… Guess -I’ll take a siesta!”
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Oh don;t take a real job …pls don’t.
-Madhu
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Right then, that bio’s outdated and I’m already on my second job, thanks.
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Linda,
This is interesting.
After staying somewhere else, you have a different perspective about the world and the bugs.
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…and many other things that I’d be happy to discuss with you in another online venue.
Actually, my perspective on the bugs is roughly unchanged – if it’s in my living space, it has to go. I didn’t even meet many new species, mostly crickets and roaches, which they’ve got lots of in Texas.
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Growing up in Hong Kong, as a child I was expected to not look at the person who was speaking to me who was older. So even now, I find myself having a conversation with my eyes on the ground.
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Great post. We had some adjustment issues coming back to the States after our year long RTW as well. Not as serious as some of these, but there was a definite adjustment period.
Ice was one thing that I always missed while traveling and was so happy to always have upon our return home. It’s amazing how much we take water and their derivatives for granted when most of the rest of the world has a literal life and death struggle with it.
And the snacks, oh my, the snacks. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve just wanted to walk out my front door and get a bag of already cut pineapple, or a $1 bowl of pad thai, or some Vietnamese iced coffee, or some Bia Hoi, or….well, you get the point.
Even after being home for 9 months, the prices still astound me here at home. Everything is just so damn expensive, but hey, at least we have some income now.
Thanks for sharing, what a great article!!
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“…the prices still astound me here at home.”
I left out the part where I refuse to buy $10 sunglasses because I KNOW I can get them for $1 in Togo, if I haggle hard enough.
I still have no sunglasses.
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I always end up speaking and sounding like the last place I visit. What’s nice is that I come to understand the people with that particular accent when I encounter them- even after I get my american lingo back.
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After a few years of living in Taiwan the way white people looked to me changed (I myself am white, by the way) and I didn’t realize this until I came back home to the U.S. Everyone looked so similar in my home town I couldn’t believe it. The first day I was back I thought I saw my grandpa walking down the street towards me and I freaked out because we were in a city five hours away from where he lived, but as he got closer I realized he was just a generic old white guy. It took several months for me to readjust and stop staring at everyone’s huge noses and confuse all old people for my grandparents.
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